in her peasant dress, in the remote field, sloping up into a thick
wood, she was unlikely to attract attention; and though the field
was bordered on one side by the lane leading to the road to Paris,
it was separated from it by a steep bank, crowned by one of the
thick hedgerows characteristic of the Bocage.

Here, then, they were forced to leave her, seated on a stone
beneath a thorn-bush, distaff in hand, with bread, cheese, and a
pitcher of milk for her provisions, and three or four cows grazing
before her. From the higher ground below the wood of ash and
hazel, she could see the undulating fields and orchards, a few
houses, and that inhospitable castle of her own.

She had spent many a drearier day in the convent than this, in the
free sun and air, with the feeling of liberty, and unbounded hopes
founded on this first success. She told her beads diligently,
trusting that the tale of devotions for her husband's spirit would
be equally made up in the field as in the church, and intently all
day were her ears and eyes on the alert. Once Lucette visited her,
to bring her a basin of porridge, and to tell her that all the
world at the convent was in confusion, that messengers had been
sent out in all directions, and that M. le Chevalier had ridden out
himself in pursuit; but they should soon hear all about it, for
Martin was pretending to be amongst the busiest, and he would know
how to turn them away. Again, much later in the day, Martin came
striding across the field, and had just reached her, as she sat in
the hedgerow, when the great dog who followed him pricked his ears,
and a tramping and jingling was audible in the distance in the
lane. Eustacie held up her finger, her eyes dilating.